What if Invisible Magic brought together The Swimming AND Greenpoint Ghost Story??
Monday, December 31, 2018
Friday, November 30, 2018
Wednesday, October 31, 2018
Was I the evil one?
Even when we were young, I felt like I was always trying to encourage him.
I had such a crush. He was like my brother, I wanted to open all my doors to him. I wanted to be NICE.
We would go for walks in the woods.
Sure, you can take your camera. You should!
And sometimes, I'd get into the water.
There was a great shot of me, pulling my hair out of the water with a great snap of my neck, a reverse rainbow-a wheel of water in an arc. My long hair a paintbrush into the sky.
He liked the way I looked in the water.
And I wanted to make him smile.
But I swear he never touched me. I know because I wanted him to.
When they took him away, I ran alongside the van and he wouldn't even look at me.
I hoped there was a LOT of stuff I didn't know about. But I was never sure.
He could have been a murderer. He could have tried to hurt or kill himself, or threaten something or someone. My parents never told me why he had to go. But it must've been something horrible.
In the 28 years, I still haven't guessed.
How do you imagine evil coming from the person you love. The FIRST person you loved. If we had been able to talk, to discuss it, I might have gotten over him. But I've never wanted to reach for another man (or woman). And I never told our secrets.
But I keep swimming. Because he liked it when I swam. And maybe someday, he'll be on the shore when I get out. There's a song "I walk a little faster", and I always sing "I swim a little faster". Because the faster I swim, the sooner I'll get to him.
I had such a crush. He was like my brother, I wanted to open all my doors to him. I wanted to be NICE.
We would go for walks in the woods.
Sure, you can take your camera. You should!
And sometimes, I'd get into the water.
There was a great shot of me, pulling my hair out of the water with a great snap of my neck, a reverse rainbow-a wheel of water in an arc. My long hair a paintbrush into the sky.
He liked the way I looked in the water.
And I wanted to make him smile.
But I swear he never touched me. I know because I wanted him to.
When they took him away, I ran alongside the van and he wouldn't even look at me.
I hoped there was a LOT of stuff I didn't know about. But I was never sure.
He could have been a murderer. He could have tried to hurt or kill himself, or threaten something or someone. My parents never told me why he had to go. But it must've been something horrible.
In the 28 years, I still haven't guessed.
How do you imagine evil coming from the person you love. The FIRST person you loved. If we had been able to talk, to discuss it, I might have gotten over him. But I've never wanted to reach for another man (or woman). And I never told our secrets.
But I keep swimming. Because he liked it when I swam. And maybe someday, he'll be on the shore when I get out. There's a song "I walk a little faster", and I always sing "I swim a little faster". Because the faster I swim, the sooner I'll get to him.
Sunday, September 30, 2018
Sept 17 Swimming
My most recent (and hopefully not LAST) swim of the summer was Sept 17, although I was at the shore on another beautiful, sunny day, when the water was STILL warmer than the air (9/26).
The water is always the best, silkiest and most amazing in the world!
The water is always the best, silkiest and most amazing in the world!
Friday, August 31, 2018
Swimsuits Going Out of Business
My favorite swimsuit company is going out of business.
https://shop.sorellaswim.com/cart
They had models known as the Marilyn, Lana and also Ginger. Carried in all shapes and sizes, at least my size. Beautiful and glamorous. Finally I was comfortable in a swimsuit. I laugh at what I used to consider decent-I was glad I spent most of my time in the water with them.
I wish I had needed to order suits more often.
https://shop.sorellaswim.com/cart
They had models known as the Marilyn, Lana and also Ginger. Carried in all shapes and sizes, at least my size. Beautiful and glamorous. Finally I was comfortable in a swimsuit. I laugh at what I used to consider decent-I was glad I spent most of my time in the water with them.
I wish I had needed to order suits more often.
Tuesday, July 31, 2018
Swimming Forever
Sometimes there are days when you can swim forever.
When the silkiness of the water meets your body like a dream. You resent the weight and gravity of air when you have to emerge.
It's the most beautiful dance, the most elegant substance. You float, you fly.
You never want to get out.
When the silkiness of the water meets your body like a dream. You resent the weight and gravity of air when you have to emerge.
It's the most beautiful dance, the most elegant substance. You float, you fly.
You never want to get out.
Saturday, June 30, 2018
Mutual Admiration Society
The BEST situations are around Mutual Admiration Societies.
It might not always be equitable, but it is important to come from a place of respect and enjoyment of the other person's talents. Winning an award, one should always be gracious and effusive in thanks.
Winning and maintaining friendships, it is important to determine comfort levels of communication, how to ensure that you've made a secure bond and how to keep it going.
Wednesday, May 30, 2018
Getting into the Water, the First Time in Spring
Some days you ease into the water slower than others.
Sometimes there are other people in front of you, laughing off the cold. And then there are the people behind you, like you once were, hesitant and tiptoeing in, afraid in their new old versions of themselves, soon to be replaced in the series.
You have it down. You walk in, as far as you dare, at least to your waist. And then have your hands in, wet your arms, touch the cold to your face. Sprinkle it down your own back. Tease yourself into the cold.
Tease yourself as long as you dare, but at some point, it'll only get better when you dive in. Whole body, none of this saving your hair or keeping your head above the water. Just give in. Let the water take you like a fish.
You can swim all the way across, even if you tell your mother that you only went halfway. Just swim twice as fast. (less than 1:30 min 5:15 to 6:30ish)
Somehow, you go faster on a hot day.
Sometimes there are other people in front of you, laughing off the cold. And then there are the people behind you, like you once were, hesitant and tiptoeing in, afraid in their new old versions of themselves, soon to be replaced in the series.
You have it down. You walk in, as far as you dare, at least to your waist. And then have your hands in, wet your arms, touch the cold to your face. Sprinkle it down your own back. Tease yourself into the cold.
Tease yourself as long as you dare, but at some point, it'll only get better when you dive in. Whole body, none of this saving your hair or keeping your head above the water. Just give in. Let the water take you like a fish.
You can swim all the way across, even if you tell your mother that you only went halfway. Just swim twice as fast. (less than 1:30 min 5:15 to 6:30ish)
Somehow, you go faster on a hot day.
Monday, April 30, 2018
Falling Out and in Love with the Man(uscript)
Falling Out and in Love with the Man(uscript)
Sometimes it's good to be obsessed with your writing.
And then sometimes, it makes you sick with the intensity.
So it's good to be able to take a step back, and get back into your life. AND, you'd be amazed at how much easier it is to edit when you have a little perspective.
And then, when you get back into it, there's a lot of THERE there. Sure, trim away all the fat. Lots of crap, but now it's easier to let go of it.
And I'm sure it'll be a cycle. I need to get through this draft. And then, rinse, repeat.
I'll forget again. But I'll fall in love again.
Saturday, March 31, 2018
Readable Draft
I hope you are as fascinated by the novel writing process as I am.
I'm taking 2 classes (1 on Query Letters to Lit Agents and one on World Building in Fiction). Getting an editor lined up, workshopping one of the chapters. Very exciting.
My goal this month is a readable draft. I have the structure, and 250 pages of scenes, notes, and things to write. I want to send out the first 50 pages to my editor asap.
I've published several short stories and plays, but getting together a giant chunk of something (with a full time job plus travel) is tremendously difficult. But rewarding!
I'm taking 2 classes (1 on Query Letters to Lit Agents and one on World Building in Fiction). Getting an editor lined up, workshopping one of the chapters. Very exciting.
My goal this month is a readable draft. I have the structure, and 250 pages of scenes, notes, and things to write. I want to send out the first 50 pages to my editor asap.
I've published several short stories and plays, but getting together a giant chunk of something (with a full time job plus travel) is tremendously difficult. But rewarding!
Wednesday, February 28, 2018
NYC Doesn't Care
You can have a life, a DEVOTION around the cult of NYC. You can be its slave for years, trying to get it to love you back.
But it doesn't give a fuck.
You can starve, can live in a closet, can work 24/7, can work as a barista, can perform on Broadway. you can make it there one day and feel like you are starting over the very next.
Other cities will welcome you back with open arms. Embrace you like your Mom. Alumnae returning to the geographies of their youth. New York will be like, 'Oh, did you leave the party?"
Every neighborhood, every block is a new beginning. You start from scratch, you reinvent yourself. Hopefully smarter this time.
You can go for years and never run into any of your previous friends, or selves. And then you can spend 24 hours playing "This is your life", and seeing mirrors everywhere you go.
But it doesn't give a fuck.
You can starve, can live in a closet, can work 24/7, can work as a barista, can perform on Broadway. you can make it there one day and feel like you are starting over the very next.
Other cities will welcome you back with open arms. Embrace you like your Mom. Alumnae returning to the geographies of their youth. New York will be like, 'Oh, did you leave the party?"
Every neighborhood, every block is a new beginning. You start from scratch, you reinvent yourself. Hopefully smarter this time.
You can go for years and never run into any of your previous friends, or selves. And then you can spend 24 hours playing "This is your life", and seeing mirrors everywhere you go.
Wednesday, January 31, 2018
The Glory of Mudding
Some of the places she swam through were just mud. Swimming was a glorified description, it was closer to crawling.
She didn't mind; most of her days were clinically clean, made up of glass and metal (steel brushed, smoothed and polished) and zero-friction grounding cloths. Lint and dust collected on the screens and had to be wiped off periodically, such a fine layer of dust. White dust. particles.
Sometimes, she LONGED to dive into nature. To feel the irregularities in the soil, to watch animals and insects go about their merry way, eating and being eaten.
She used to be afraid of deep water, where she wasn't able to touch the bottom. But one day, she swam in water that was over her head, and she managed to stay grounded to the surface. After that reorientation, she was fine. It no longer mattered if the bottom was 7 feet away, or 70. What mattered was the distance to the surface.
She had a fetish for temperature. She was sensitive to it, there were certainly extremes she liked and didn't like. She had burned her hand trapped inside of a fire once. (EDIE SEDGEWICK), by touching a door knob whose metal conductivity had told her there was a fire on the other side. She didn't open the door, and thus her life was probably saved. Ever since, she paid attention to temperature. Bedcovers, doctor's fingers, etc.
The mud she got herself into was the connecting part of 2 bodies of water. A river flowing into a side pool. She had to corss it and didn't mind getting messy. In fact, she liked it, and stayed extra long and played, like a dog, like a child, like a bird.
And then she got washed off in the rest of her travels.
But the sensation of the mud clung to her long after she had been clean. Like wearing a suit that stayed with your own movements, nothing that slipped away across your skin, like clothes. Cold, and slippery.
She didn't mind; most of her days were clinically clean, made up of glass and metal (steel brushed, smoothed and polished) and zero-friction grounding cloths. Lint and dust collected on the screens and had to be wiped off periodically, such a fine layer of dust. White dust. particles.
Sometimes, she LONGED to dive into nature. To feel the irregularities in the soil, to watch animals and insects go about their merry way, eating and being eaten.
She used to be afraid of deep water, where she wasn't able to touch the bottom. But one day, she swam in water that was over her head, and she managed to stay grounded to the surface. After that reorientation, she was fine. It no longer mattered if the bottom was 7 feet away, or 70. What mattered was the distance to the surface.
She had a fetish for temperature. She was sensitive to it, there were certainly extremes she liked and didn't like. She had burned her hand trapped inside of a fire once. (EDIE SEDGEWICK), by touching a door knob whose metal conductivity had told her there was a fire on the other side. She didn't open the door, and thus her life was probably saved. Ever since, she paid attention to temperature. Bedcovers, doctor's fingers, etc.
The mud she got herself into was the connecting part of 2 bodies of water. A river flowing into a side pool. She had to corss it and didn't mind getting messy. In fact, she liked it, and stayed extra long and played, like a dog, like a child, like a bird.
And then she got washed off in the rest of her travels.
But the sensation of the mud clung to her long after she had been clean. Like wearing a suit that stayed with your own movements, nothing that slipped away across your skin, like clothes. Cold, and slippery.
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